


We're Gonna Play - [Jean x Tsundere!Reader] - LEMON!

by cherrypikkins



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angry Sex, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Hate to Love, Lemon, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rough Sex, Tsunderes, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrypikkins/pseuds/cherrypikkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author's Notes :<br/>This lemon can be read as a standalone fic.  However, readers who are wishing for a tie-in to the 'Just Be' series are at leisure to read the 'optional ending' located at the conclusion of this lemon.  Chronologically, this should take place after the 'Dere for a Day' short, during the final year of training.</p>
<p>Songstamp can be found here: <a href="http://cherrypikkins.tumblr.com/post/68203443385/were-gonna-play-matthew-barber-no-copyright">[We're Gonna Play, by Matthew Barber]</a></p>
<p>Do enjoy... 8D</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Gonna Play - [Jean x Tsundere!Reader] - LEMON!

For the ornery scoundrel Jean Kirschtein, the world used to be far simpler before you came along. He was used to being right, most of the time, and he never had to second-guess himself. Reality was manageable, uncomplicated, and more or less predictable. He either liked something, or he hated it. People either got along with him, or they pissed him off to no end. Everything was there for him to sort into these tidy, unambiguous categories of either black or white, and that was the way he preferred it. Of course, it was a rather dull way of looking at the world, but in effect it granted him complete trust in himself. There was no room for self-doubt. He could handle anything that came his way, with ease and confidence.

...But then he met you, the foul-mouthed, roguish little spitfire from his hometown. You came along with your knee-shattering kick and sent his painstakingly organized world toppling upside-down. You were his rival, his own pet antagonist, for you clashed fists and words with him, challenging him at every corner and hounding at his heels like a demon.

You weren't something to be pigeon-holed into a sorting box of black or white, nor even a shade of grey. No, you were a burning, violent splash of color that refused to blend or fade or become lost in the scheme of life's everyday palette. And no matter how hard Jean tried, he just couldn't tear his eyes away from you. For more than two-and-a-half years, you kept him captive with your voice, your quirks, and your gestures. Like a brush of paint, you stuck out stubbornly on a canvas of grey, and your hues left him blind, burning the very image of you into his mind until all he could see was you.

...He had said it before and he would say it again, a million times more. You had a special, in-born talent for driving him beyond the brink of madness.

...

**//I'm seeking someone to save my soul**

**I'm searching high but I'm low**

**I'm gonna start in the middle with a cat not a fiddle**

**and my notes are gonna follow so//**

...

The two of you - one roguish little spitfire and that cocky son-of-a-bitch - were fiercely engaged in yet another physical scuffle, fighting tooth and nail. This was a score that could only be settled in bruises, another challenge to answer between two clashing tempers that burned red-hot. You took some, and you dealt some, with a pleasure that was borderline sadistic. He did the same, all the while showing equal fervor, for he knew that you were much the opposite of a fragile porcelain doll. Today, the desire to one-up the other was running higher than ever.

And yet, something was different this time. Unbeknownst to you, Jean was harboring nervous doubts of his own. It wasn't the first instance he had felt that way, but this time he felt truly determined to restrain himself. He knew that you sensed this, for you stopped and frowned at him disdainfully. It wasn't unusual for a man to feel a little reluctant, using the full extent of his strength to brawl against a member of the fairer sex. Even if you were far from delicate, the difference in physical power was inherent and insurmountable. He could absolutely ruin you if he wanted to.

...Pft. Yeah right, you thought scornfully. Whatever he could dish out, you could handle, no problem. You were looking for a thrill, and for that you wanted him to fight you at his fullest effort. And if he was going to insult you by coddling you like this, then... well, you were just going to have to convince him to let go of his reservations by making him a little angry. Bitch-mode, _engage._

You could practically see his eyebrow twitching with wrath as you called him a coward. A sissy who was well-suited for a soft life in the Interior. You made petty and baseless insinuations about his manhood, because you were just so damn classy like that. You brought up Mikasa, and flaunted the fact that Eren Jaeger was still was a harder hitter than he could ever aspire to be, and a better fighter for not holding back against a girl.

Amber-gold eyes flashed dangerously, to the point of blazing. Your tactics worked... he was fighting more fiercely than ever, and for a moment you almost lost your footing. Maybe, just maybe, your plan had worked a little too well.

If only you knew what he was really holding back, all this time.

You had a way of insulting his pride, cutting it down and burying it ten feet underground. With your sharp little tongue, you stung his ego mercilessly, driving him to the breaking point. You didn't just get on his nerves. _You crawled all over them_. Creeping right underneath his skin and into his blood. He was left raging.

Burning red with humiliation, Jean could stand it no longer. To hell with being gallant, all he wanted now was gratification for his wounded pride.

...

**//I'm seeking someone to save my soul**

**Feeling low when I'm high**

 

**I'm gonna start at the ending**

**'Cause it's time to stop pretending**

**That I'm doing something with this life**

 

**That I'm doing something with my time//**

...

Drunk on confidence, you moved in with the intent to batter him down with a flurry of punches, flaunting your mocking grins and flinging insults all the while. That was when his fists turned into open palms, creating a trap for you. When you were unable to stop yourself from moving forward, he caught you with deftness, as though you were a fly hurtling headfirst into a web. His wiry hands closed around your wrists, engulfing them easily and pulling you close, giving you no room to maneuver. Stumbling in place, you protested this move - he wasn't playing fair.

The sudden look in his eyes made you shut up on the spot. Right now, he was neither playing, nor did he have any intention to be fair. The way he grasped you roughly, leaving your arms hanging in the air, spurred you with fear and the need to fight.

A pulse of heat coursed through his veins, driving all good sense and reason out of his head as he struggled to hold you still. Thrashing against his tight grip, you hissed and spat curses at him, resembling more a wild feline than an ordinary girl. In response, he bared his teeth and snarled, straining against you with a viciousness that left you genuinely startled.

A brash, arrogant man like him could only endure so much from a trash-talking girl like you. There was a limit to how much he could take without snapping, and you tended to overestimate that threshold. You taunted him with your biting words, your insinuating eyes and your shit-eating grin. You provoked him. Goaded him. Antagonized him. Tested the limits of his temper. Hell, the mere existence of you was enough to rile up a side of himself that was far from good or honorable. Not that he was a gentleman to begin with, but you really had no idea just how much he was trying to hold back right now.

...But maybe, he might just have to let you find out the hard way after all. The way you were acting right now, you were practically begging for him to show you.

Being a man, his physical strength had you beat. With barely a shred of effort, he shoved you up against the wall, back first. The force was not nearly enough to cause you real pain, but it was more than enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Your head spun. You gasped, opened your eyes, and glared up at him. In return, he narrowed his eyes right back at you, unfazed by your indignation at this treatment. His expression was cold and overbearing, void of all humour as he pinned your wrists securely above your head, preventing you from budging an inch.

You were enraged. More curses flew out of that shit mouth of yours, as you writhed madly against his hold, bruising yourself in the process. What the fuck was he doing? This you demanded angrily. And who the hell did he think he was? Asshole. Arrogant prick. Shit-eating bastard. Horseface. Moron. So forth and so forth, _ad nauseum_. You were on a roll with your verbal abuse, and Jean knew from previous experience... whenever this happened, there was only one surefire way of stopping you.

... He moved in and enveloped his lips tightly and roughly around yours, shocking you into silence. Sneering, he grew bolder, taking advantage of your surprise and pressing in even deeper. Ignoring your muffled protests, he was content to close his eyes and prolong that moment, letting out a low hum of appreciation at the way your lips felt so soft and malleable against his mouth. Little by little, your heated protests turned into whimpers. He smirked into the kiss, opening his eyes halfway and glancing down none too discreetly. Your knees were growing weaker by the second. He could tell, because you were starting to sink, inch by inch, against the wall behind you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just that. The sensation of your warmth melding with his heat simply spurred him on, setting his blood on fire. Moving inward, he closed the distance until he was practically crushing you against the wall with his taut, muscled body, with only clothes to separate both of your raw, organic forms. Rendered completely immobile, your eyes widened, and you gasped at the sensation of his hips smashing against yours, entangling your legs together. Overcome with a sudden hunger, Jean took this as an invitation to delve deeper into your open mouth. With a growl, his tongue claimed entrance, moving past your lips and rooting deep into your soft, moist, vulnerable insides without a struggle. Tasting. Exploring. Bending you to his whims.

...

**//Well I want you for my breakfast,**

**And I want you for my lunch**

**And when I sleep in on the weekend**

**I'm gonna want you for my brunch//**

...

Your whimpers began fading into moans, pleading and desperate. Whether against your will or by your own volition, your mouth inadvertently began moving as well, causing him to groan in response. The soft and feminine curves of your body squirmed and shuddered underneath his own, firing off jolts of raw pleasure through every nerve under his skin, and leaving him wanting to torment you a little more.

As a show of mercy, he pulled his lips away, but kept you firmly pinned to the wall with his body... just so he could gloat at the mortified expression on your face. As you gasped for air, a thin thread of saliva hung between his open mouth and yours. Now that you were finally allowed to breathe again, you clenched your teeth at him in a silent hiss, defiant as ever. That was your bravado at work here, and you were putting up a front to mask your fear. But Jean could tell, you were trembling like mad.

He was about to drive you both beyond a point of no return, and there was absolutely no stopping him.

With a sudden burst of strength and vehemence, he wrestled you to the floor, pinning you down with the full weight of his form. Inevitably, his newly awakened compulsions were starting to manifest as a growing, hardening need, straining against the inside of his trousers. Needless to say, you were starting to second-guess your previous, ill-judged accusations about his manhood ...For this close, you could feel his desire just as much as he did, pressing into you and causing your body to shift with discomfort. Your cheeks burned hot as coals.

That was when you finally realized your fatal mistake of prodding him into seeking vengeance. After all, he had discovered his own way of frightening you, and it worked like a charm. And when a crazy, out-of-control imp like you needed to be knocked down a few pegs, there was no better method.

But no, he wasn't out to make a point, nor was it his intent to get even with you this time. He was here to address a certain problem of his...namely, two years worth of torturous, pent-up tension without a singularly gratifying means of release. Guess who was the cause?

...

**//'Cause you're the glory in my morning**

**You're the sunshine in my day**

**And when the whole city is snoring**

**We're gonna play, we're gonna play//**

...

He met your nervous gaze with a sardonic smile, one that was without remorse or pity. To think, just a minute ago, you were so bent on beating him to a bloody, bruised-up pulp. But now that you were helpless underneath him, you were out of bark, and out of bite. All you could do was lie on the floor and struggle ineffectually against his grip, knowing that right now, you were completely at his mercy.

You were finally starting to get the picture. Ordinarily, he treated you with grudging respect and relative courtesy, going only so far as to piss you off on purpose, but defying every urge to go further than that. And yet, a much less chivalrous side of himself continued to seethe with a burning need to do _sordid, unspeakable things to you until you couldn't see straight._ And let's be honest - such an intense and overpowering compulsion could only go unanswered for so long...

With nothing to stop his brazenness, Jean began smothering you with kisses again. His passion heightened, but his interest in your lips waned in favor of the rest of your body. Growing a little more adventurous, he left them to trail his kisses past your jaw-line and assault the sensitive flesh of your neck. Your abandoned lips remained parted open, and through them you began inhaling sharply against the uncontrollable signals that prickled across your skin.

One wiry hand pinned your wrists above your head. His other hand began to move downward. His rough and calloused fingers began to slide snugly underneath the straps of your harness, creating unbearable tension until the buckles popped loose, one by one. The straps came apart, leaving Jean free to pursue the buttons of your shirt with his fingers. He watched on with an increasingly enthusiastic smile as the collar flaps were peeled away, exposing you little by little to the cold, open air and stopping short at the top most part of your brassiere.

You were powerless to stop him as he moved down to explore this newly uncovered field of soft, supple skin. Craving to feel you shudder against him once more, he began dragging his teeth down the line of your neck, inflicting a stinging bite just below your collar bone. You yelped out and twitched, spine curving outwards. Inevitably, this caused your hips to arch up suddenly against his, to which he responded with another groan of pleasure.

Growing a little fiercer, he began tugging against your jacket and your shirt, pulling them further downwards until your shoulders were exposed. Right now, he was fixated upon the look on your face, the way you stared up at him hauntingly wide eyes. He normally loathed to admit it, but there was something about absolutely enticing about seeing you so frightened like this. As much as he admired your fire and spirit, the scoundrel was craving to see that meeker side of you. You were full of such pride, such spunk and spitfire... but little did you realize just how cute you looked to him, the more vulnerable you were.

His hands roughly gripped you by your shoulders, pressing into your bare skin and preventing you from squirming away as he buried his lips against your neck once again, creating bruises and red welts in his wake. His hips pressed further inwards, forcing you to splay your thighs to accommodate him. As your whimpers grew frantic, his excitement shot into levels unprecedented. God, this was too much, and yet he couldn't stop himself! All that you were, and all that you could give, he wanted more of it until there was nothing left to take... to fill your head with thoughts of him the way his mind burst at the seams with thoughts of you, to make you ache with pleasure until the only thing you could scream out was his name...

...and yet...

...

**//The city's cold and the country's slow**

**I think I'll float out to sea**

**And maybe find me an island**

**where the water meets the sky**

**And you will never ever hear from me//**

...

... Jean stopped himself, suddenly snapping out of his feverish trance and freezing in place. Lifting himself slightly from your panting form, he stared into your face once again. Somehow, this felt wrong. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted this, more than any urge, desire, or compulsion he had ever felt before. But with the way you were acting right now, was he doing something horribly obscene and criminal? After all, the reason he didn't bother to restrain himself was the assumption that you wanted this just as much as he did... but what if he had been incorrect, all this time? The realization of such a possibility hit him like a slap, and so he found himself unable to move, unable to act, gulping thickly against a sudden wave of panic. All he could do was look to you for an answer, eyes filled with anxiety, knowing that if he had made a dire mistake here, he deserved far worse than having the living shit beaten out of him...

In response, you stared back at him, utterly bewildered. Your breaths continued to heave with exertion, but your meek and fearful expression slowly melted away into something a little more familiar. Eyes once large and infinitely round suddenly narrowed into a cross-looking slits. First, there was confusion. Then, there was annoyance. And then, there was a dangerous look on your face that made Jean gulp with nervousness. _Why the fuck did you stop? Did I fucking **tell** you to stop? _ This you asked with your trademark glaring expression, the very sort that tended to be a precursor to getting his ass kicked. And little did he know...

Undetected, your leg maneuvered its way stealthily in between his thighs, knee lifting to rub up sensually against his already throbbing groin. Jean's eyes widened. He shuddered violently as though shot with a bolt, gasping and cursing at you with a sharp hiss of breath. You observed his heated throes with cruel amusement and satisfaction. Reaching out with a hand, you entangled your fingers with his fluffy, copper-blond hair, sending stinging sensations all across his scalp and forcing him to look at you. He did so with a startled grimace, wincing with gritted teeth against your hold.

Lifting your head from the floor and tilting it against one shoulder, you glowered up at him and clicked your tongue with impatience.

" _Tch._ For fuck's sake, Kirschtein..." Your lips pulled back into a mocking smile that flickered beneath a smoldering glare. "...How long are you going to keep a girl hanging in suspense?"

The hand against his head tightened mercilessly. All the while, the top of your thigh continued to press up between his legs, forcing a moan from the depths of his throat, needy and imploring.

"Agh...! F-Fuck..."

You were tormenting him with both pain and pleasure, placing him under your whims and forcing him to make a choice - to either act or to let you take matters into your own hands... _Literally,_ even! To that extent, you were willing to let him fool himself into thinking he had you and everything under his control...  _so long as he didn't fuck things up this time_. Your sharp eyes bored haughtily into his, causing him to swallow thickly with nervousness.

Leaving him hypnotized, your fingers pressed deeper into the back of his head, dragging him down into a kiss, deep and slow. Your lips burned hotly against his, inviting him closer without a shred of resistance and vehemently refusing to let him pull away until you were satisfied. With that, all his doubts were cleared away, and he was left chuckling inwardly at his own foolishness.

Of course you wanted this. Chances are, you wanted this even more than he did, and he had underestimated the depths to which you were willing to stoop to get what you desired. You were the one who had him captive all along, feigning wide-eyed helplessness all for the purpose of ensnaring him further into your trap. And now that you had him right where you wanted, nothing was keeping you from showing your true colors. You were the one in control. You were the one making demands, and if he planned on keeping all of his _teeth_ in by the end of the day, he had better damn well do his best not to leave you cold and disappointed...

It left him scared shitless and perversely excited all at once, knowing that you could tear him to ribbons at a second's notice if he didn't please you, or managed to do the opposite. This he thought to himself, as his lips began wrapping fiercer than ever over yours, while a wiry hand dared to climb up underneath the fabric of your shirt. But maybe, that was what secretly motivated him so much, all this time. You were a fascinating, terrifying, and unfathomable creature that existed far beyond his league, and he couldn't even aspire to catch up with you. That didn't stop him from yearning desperately, with all the desire of his being, to simply be _acknowledged_ by you. And to achieve that, he was willing to do absolutely anything...

...

**//The city's cold and the country's slow**

**And I'm a long way from shore**

**But I'm a fool to be bitter when I wise-up and consider**

**That my girl lives practically next door**

 

_**... And I'm loving her more and more//** _

...

With his confidence revived, the lean soldier began delving deeply into your mouth once again. You responded favorably, massaging your tongue and lips against his and causing his need to climb with urgency. His rough, sinewy hands grasped at the tender, yielding flesh of your breasts, while you dragged your nails and teeth against the surface of his skin. Both sets of fingers, his and yours, worked feverishly against the multitude of buttons, straps, buckles, and zippers that got in your way. The accursed uniforms were stifling you both with unbearable heat, preventing you from reaching your desired level of closeness... but your combined efforts made short work of them.

Leather straps and fabric began to peel away and fall to the floor, filling the air with the rustling of clothing and the clattering of belt buckles. Breath and pulse began to quicken as he stripped you down to the skin. You did the same, pulling his shirt away until were entreated to the sight of his lean, yet strongly-built torso. From neck to shoulder to chest to abdomen, he was bound and sculpted with muscle, warm and sun-kissed in tone and burning hot to the touch. Grinning with wolfish amusement at the way you stared so breathlessly, Jean worked his arms free of his sleeves, eager to assail your body with his hands once more.

You yelped and shrieked a little underneath his touch, blushing furiously at the way his hands wandered so shamelessly all over you, pinching and pressing at the sensitive nerves underneath your skin until you turned red, and squeezing hard enough to bruise... Quite frankly, you felt tempted to slap him senseless for his insolence. But with a playful, devilish grin, you came up with a better idea, deftly sneaking your fingers past his waistband...

He inhaled sharply as you drew his stiffening length free from the confines of his trousers. Your deft, slender fingers wrapped around him and held him hostage, causing him to bite his voice down. You smiled, feeling him awaken into a fully formed erection, knowing that all he could do in response was glare at you, furious and red-faced while you smiled ever so sweetly back at him.

You truly were a demon at the core, living under the guise of a cute and adorable girl. A Firefly from Hell. This time, he was the one breathless, torn between a desire for revenge and the need to beg you for mercy.

... You always had a special way of driving him off the edge of madness. And no matter what sort of clash you two got into, you were always destined to be the winner in the end.

...

**//Well I want you for my breakfast,**

**And I want you for my lunch**

**And when I sleep in on the weekend**

**I'm gonna want you for my brunch//**

...

With a growl, he snatched away your hands and pinned you down against the floor once again, determined to put an end to the teasing. You uttered complaints at this rough treatment, but he ignored you. Every nerve was tingling with anticipation as he hovered over you, wrapping a hand around your ankle and single-handedly hoisting one leg upwards above his shoulder while your back remained against the floor.

...To be honest, you had plenty of reason to be a little nervous. Maybe even scared. Those hands of his were none-too-gentle, and the burning look in his eyes was far from kind, or reassuring. And from the way he tilted his head to plant a kiss against the smooth surface of your inner thigh, dragging his teeth across your sensitive skin... his intentions were not the least bit virtuous.

Your heart pounded as he glared at you. Smiling nervously, you frantically tried to reason with him, begging him to spare a moment or two. But the moment before you decided you were absolutely ready, he suddenly thrust himself into you in one frenzied, brutal motion, causing you to cut off your own words with a gasp.

_Son of a bitch...!_

A low and feral groan resonated from his chest. His grip around your thigh tightened as you twitched and arched underneath him. You were both mortified and infuriated, but that was easily overpowered by the fact that your body was now aching with both pain and intense pleasure against the length that filled up your core to the stretching point. Meanwhile, all he could do was slowly let himself go mad...and curse breathily at the way you felt so soft, yet so tight all around him.

You were still reeling from the initial shock of having him enter you so suddenly, but he showed no pity. Pulling out and leaving you whimpering, he allowed you a moment or two to get over yourself. And then, with a vicious snarl, he repeated the motion, hips slamming up against yours with bruising forcefulness. You cried out as he drove himself deeper into you, your spine curving upwards with a jolt. All the while, his movements became more enthused. He began picking up speed, keeping up a relentless rhythm, being as rough with you as he pleased, because he knew for a fact that a girl like you could take it without breaking.

...There were no more words. Only violently panting breaths, the clash of lips, and the hot friction of skin against skin.

...

**//'Cause you're the glory in my morning,**

**You're the sunshine in my day**

**And when the whole city is snoring**

**We're gonna play, we're gonna play//**

...

Your head tilted back against the floor, lost in the haze of your overwhelmed senses. Your breath was hot with exertion, turning into plaintive moans as raw bliss welled up inside of you. In the middle of it all, however, you suddenly snapped awake to the sensation of Jean burying his face into your neck, assaulting your tingling flesh with his teeth, and leaving sharp stings against your neck and shoulders. All the while, his hips continued pound against you mercilessly, forcing you to open yourself up a little more to make it easier on yourself.. and your poor sore pelvis. ... Because he wasn't about to show you any courtesy.

Your irritation grew at the very nerve of him. Gritting your teeth against the waves of pleasure that were crashing into you, you brought your hands up against the back of his shoulders and began driving your fingernails inward, like claws. You were rewarded with a snarling hiss of breath and a shudder as his body snapped against yours, causing the floorboards beneath to creak. His teeth tightened against your shoulders, creating imprints, while your fingernails drew red lines of raw skin down his back.

Everything was a violent storm of pain and euphoria all at once. You were reaching your absolute limit, and so was he. You were right all along when you said that this was a score that could only be settled with bruises, and hell if he was going to catch you begging for mercy at this point. You felt tension build up, pulsating inside of you. Raw emotion began to culminate to a peak, threatening to burst at the seams...

Your voice was shot, but somehow you managed to cry out.

"Jean ... I...!"

He answered you with clenched teeth, restraining himself, and yet begging for release.

"Yeah... I know... _Shut up._ "

Your temper flared. Wrapping your thighs tighter than ever around his hips, you flipped him onto his back in one sudden, fluid motion. He gasped and yelled as you slammed him back first against the floorboards in a frightening burst of strength. Glaring up at you, he began to utter an angry protest... only to inexplicably lose his voice when he saw the look on your face, and what you were doing right now.

...

**//We're gonna play, we're gonna play**

**And get things started right today**

**Yeah, we're gonna play, we're gonna play//**

...

This time, you were the one holding his wrists down to the floor, staring down at him with a frenzied grin on your face. He gulped, eyes wide at the very sight of your bare form hovering over him. As your hips and thighs settled nicely on top of him, completely straddling his groin area, you began to move. Filled with panic, he began to tense and twitch underneath you, but there was no stopping you now. You were picking up from where he had left off, and you weren't slowing down. _Not a single bit._

_Fuck..._

He couldn't move. He could barely speak - hell, he could barely breathe. For once, his smart mouth failed him, the only words he could utter were barely discernable from desperate, pleading moans. The motions of your lower body riding against him so sensuously was just... Oh God, it was too much, and he yet he yearned for more. His hands ached to touch you, and you knew it. That was why you kept them pinned down, knowing it would agonize him even more.

And yet, as you began to climb up to your peak, your hands inevitably went from his wrists to his slick and muscled chest. Your hands gripped him for support as you continued thrusting him eagerly into your fiery, red-hot center. Fingernails dug in deep, riddling his shoulders and collar with scratches. The heightened level of simulation drove him beyond the edge, closer to the breaking point. His hands suddenly flew up to grip your waist, pulling you in closer. With a snap, the floodgates to ecstasy burst open, and his hips arched up into you...

You felt him release inside of you like a spring, firing off every nerve and signal in your body with heart-pounding bliss. You were left trembling and moaning, completely out of breath as your body began to descend from its climax.

...

**//And if you say you're gonna stay**

**Then I might never go away**

**Not another day,**

**_Not another day..._ //**

...

The two of you stared at each other, desperately gasping for air. You pulled away slightly, whimpering as he slid out of you with a groan, leaving you sore, aching, and tingling with the remnants of passion. His amber-gold eyes were filled with amazement at the sight of you, never leaving your form even as you untangled yourself from him.

Propping himself up, he continued to look on in amusement as you began fumbling for your clothes on the floor. Noticing this, your face turned bright red, and you glared at him indignantly.

"Don't stare," you snapped at him, holding a shirt up against your bare front. "You pervert."

He chuckled, grinning unrepentantly at you. "After our encounter, I think you and I are at odds as to who is _truly_ the perverted one here."

In a childish, juvenile manner you stuck your tongue out at him, a bundle of pink moist flesh poking between soft lips. His eyes widened. You had meant to mock him, but all it did was spur him back into action.

You yelped as he tackled you into the floor again, one hand grasping your wrist, another wrapped around your ankle. The shirt flew off of your form and lay forgotten in a corner. You squirmed and whined for mercy, but he was having none of it.

Jean smiled. If madness was this much bliss, then he would be content to spend every waking moment letting you drive him beyond the edge of reason.

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[continue scrolling for the optional ending 8D]

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Sunlight poured in from the nearby window of the men's dorms. Jean's eyes snapped open as he awoke in his bunk. At first he was confused. Disoriented. Bewildered and flustered beyond words. But once he ruminated on what _exactly_ had occurred last night, his face flushed red as a berry.

_No. No no no no nononono, Oh my God, No. **Fuck.** Please don't tell me that I dreamed about..._

Embarrassment and guilt flooded him as he buried his burning face into his pillow. It was morning, and everyone else was already awake. He could tell from the voices and footfalls of his dormmates storming up a noise all around him. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't bear the thought of facing you today at breakfast. It was just too mortifying. And if that wasn't bad enough... if the unpleasant moistness and tingling sensation between his legs was any indication at all, he had a _very_ good reason to keep himself covered with the sheets right now...

...Marco's head hovered over him, greeting him with ever the pleasant smile.

"Good morning, Jean. Time to get up!" he trilled cheerfully. And then he blinked, noticing the way Jean stubbornly kept his bright-red face partially covered with the edge of his sheets.

"Jean, are you okay?" Marco asked, looking concerned. "Your face looks a little hot. Are you having a fever?" He reached out and placed a hand against Jean's forehead...

Jean twitched, snapping away from him. Marco looked a little started.

"Marco... I really, REALLY need you not to touch me right now," he uttered in a low, dull voice, unable to look at his best friend for fear of dying with embarrassment.

Connie wandered over. "Oy, Marco. What's wrong with Jean?"

Marco looked just as baffled as he did. "I'm not sure. Maybe he's just not feeling well?"

Connie scoffed. "Oh, likely story. If he thinks he can get out of training by acting like this, he's got another think coming."

Grinning with manic glee, he grabbed ahold of Jean's sheets and threw them off of his prone, curled-up form.

"GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED, JEAN! COME ON, UP AND AT 'EM!"

Jean yelled, furious and mortified all at once.

\---

You left your dorm building the same morning, feeling sore and exhausted. From a lack of sleep, that is. Sasha rolled up to walk beside you, greeting you with a cheerfulness that you found absolutely disgusting. A yawn escaped your throat as you passed by the men's dorms.

That was when you heard the panicked shouts of Connie Springer, coming from the building itself. It was followed by an outburst from Jean, who sounded both horrified and enraged.

"OH MY FUCKING - WHAT THE HELL, JEAN? NOT COOL! **NOT COOL AT ALL!** "

"DAMN IT, CONNIE! **DON'T PULL MY SHEETS OFF.** "

Sasha snapped her head towards the window, looking absolutely startled.

"Huh," she remarked, blinking in puzzlement. "I wonder what's going on in the boys' dorms."

You grimaced, moving right along and yawning more loudly than before. "Quite frankly," you muttered, glancing briefly over your shoulder. "I'm not sure if I want to know."

\---

Marco greeted you at breakfast that morning, as cheerful as ever. Jean, in contrast, looked absolutely determined not to look in your direction. You found this puzzling. What the hell had you done _this_ time?

With a yawn, you sat down with your breakfast. Jean twitched at the very sight of you, but you barely noticed.

Noticing the bleary look in your eyes, Marco tilted his head to one side, gazing at you.

"Not enough sleep?" he inquired.

You grunted, spooning up your oatmeal. "You wouldn't believe it, but Sasha crawled over onto my side of the bunk last night. Apparently she thought my ear was a slice of ham or something, because all of a sudden she started gnawing on it like mad. It woke me up."

Marco blinked. "What... _again?"_

Nodding, you began stuffing yourself with spoonfuls of oatmeal. Jean watched you out of the corner of his eye.

"I couldn't get back to sleep after that," you moaned over a full mouth. "Shame, really... I could've sworn I had this really nice dream going on, but then Sasha woke me up and... well, after that, I couldn't remember a damn thing."

Your lips twisted with dissatisfaction. "I feel like I've been cheated out of something fun.

Jean seemed to shuffle very uncomfortably at your mention of the word 'dream'. You frowned at him momentarily. The heck was up with him today?

"Ah... [First]," Marco pointed towards your chin, and laughed a little. "You've got oatmeal on you."

You blinked, suddenly aware of something pale and creamy dripping past your lip and down your chin. Jean, too, was suddenly aware. His gaze snapped towards you with an expression that resembled alarm.

Halfway between irritation and embarrassment, you wiped off the sticky substance with your fingers and licked it off with an audible slurp, smacking your lips in the process.

Jean immediately slammed his hands down on the table's surface and rose to his feet. His face burned redder than you had ever seen before. You watched in bewilderment as he muttered some excuse and ran off without another word.

Looking towards Marco, you asked in an incredulous voice. "What the hell's eating Kirschtein today?"

Sitting alongside, Marco shrugged and smiled weakly. Did he not know? You wondered this for a while, then shrugged indifferently, returning to your breakfast.

Marco did the same, though a quietly thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

"Dreams are sometimes nice..." He murmured, smiling to himself. "I had a rather pleasant one myself, last night."

"Oh? Well if you can remember it, then it's gotta be ten times better than the one I had last night," you reasoned. You looked at him curiously. "What was it about?"

He smiled brightly at you. "It's a secret."

You narrowed your eyes at him, looking disappointed. "Watch what you say, Marco. Hearing that, one would think you were dreaming of something a little indecent last night."

"Maybe a little," Marco said cryptically, and left it at that. Unbeknownst to you, he was blushing quietly underneath his freckles. A part of him longed to tell you what he had seen last night, but then again, he didn't know how he was going to handle the embarrassment...

...of letting you know just how captivating and beautiful you had looked to him, wearing a wedding dress.

...

[End of Lemon 8D]


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